Chapter Text
Robin woke suddenly to the touch of a hand on her bare shoulder. The briefest touch, and somehow it had roused her like an alarm. But she had been slumbering so deeply, her mind luxuriating over the experiences of the night before and turning it into a kaleidoscope of images and sensations; Cormoran’s mouth on her breast, his body pressed close to hers, his hand between her legs, his -
‘Time to get up,’ said Cormoran, behind her. Robin rolled over. But he was not lying next to her as she expected. He was standing by the bed, fully dressed, putting on his watch.
His expression was inscrutable. Or it would have been, if she could examine it properly. Instead, he seemed to be turning away from her, eyes averted, almost as if the view of her naked in her bed pained him. Robin felt an icy chill run down her back. And then she looked at the clock. Ten-thirty AM. The icy chill was now accompanied by a feeling of panic. They had a meeting with a client at eleven; one whose diary was so full this appointment had been made two months in advance, and who (according to Pat) had enough money to keep the agency in tea and biscuits for years, if they were successful in taking on his case. Robin quickly sat up, forgetting momentarily that she was topless, but anyway Cormoran had moved to the kitchen, making ‘putting the kettle on’ sounds.
‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ Robin called out, as she searched for her t-shirt from last night. It was dangling reproachfully from a bedpost. She had a sudden heated memory of Cormoran taking it off while kissing her stomach.
‘You looked so peaceful. Do you want a coffee?’
‘You should have woken me earlier,’ replied Robin, feeling a strange mix of anxiety, fear, and arousal in the pit of her stomach.
‘Sorry. Have a shower if you want one. I’ll see you in the office at eleven.’
And he actually left the flat. She could hear him stomping down the metal staircase. She got up, entered the shower, and turned it on as hot as she could stand.
Was she still dreaming? Or had she dreamt last night and was only now waking up to reality? Last night. It had been… unexpected, but not really. For the past month Robin and Cormoran had been circling each other like lions in the circus, knowing that they both wanted the same thing, but waiting, with a patience borne of years of repression, for the other to make the first move. Finally, last night, in the flat, fortified with a glass and a half of whisky, Cormoran had lightly touched Robin’s cheek with the back of his hand. Robin had reached up to clasp it, had brought her lips to it - and then suddenly she had found herself pushed up against the wall, Cormoran’s mouth on hers, his hands possessively raking through her hair, and she was running her hands over his back, his arse, wanting to absorb every part of him. Wordlessly they had pulled off their clothes and with a grunt Cormoran had penetrated her, impaling her as she urged him further, to fill her, complete her, love her.
The shower was now running cold. No, she had not dreamt it. She could see all over her body pink marks where Cormoran’s mouth and stubble had been. She would have felt a little sore down below, too, if she wasn’t so aroused.
It was almost eleven o’clock. Robin roused herself to get dressed and stop being so silly. This is an important client, she thought to herself. Stop being an idiot and act like Cormoran’s partner, not his sex slave.